


Simple

by Keystoffees



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Star Trek Into Darkness - Fandom
Genre: Attentive Khan, Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, Benedict Cumberbatch as Khan, Experiments, F/M, John Harrison - Freeform, John Harrison smut, Sexy Khan, Smut, cumbersmut, khan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1620050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keystoffees/pseuds/Keystoffees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khan has discovered that you may be the key to unlocking the future of drug use, and he is keen to 'talk' you into co-operating, using all his powers of persuasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I wish I'd paid more attention in Science. I wish I knew more about Star Trek.  
> But, I hope you enjoy this.

I take a deep, cleansing breath and hold up my hand to the solid door. Releasing the air from my lungs slowly and steadily, I tap assertively on the smoky glass and attempt to ignore the pounding of my heart in my chest. The blood rushes around my head as I wait for the signal to enter, and when it comes I have a split second to decide whether to go through with his request to see me.

Khan is unpredictable, superiorly intelligent and almost impossible to overpower. If I decide once I’m in his apartment that I need to leave, I will be completely at his whim as to whether I make it out to see daylight again.

My feet start to move and I push open the door with my arm. I peer around the vast, clinical room, immediately struck by the sheer number of alarming medical apparatus and lack of comfort for what is a living space. The lack of functionless decoration should come as no surprise to me really, but it still makes my stomach flip with nerves as I wonder again why he has asked to see me.

Just as my eye is caught by an open archway in which I can see what could possibly be a bedroom, or at least a sleeping area, I hear him clear his throat. I turn my head towards the sound in time to see him rising from his chair in front of his desk. The chair is an imposing piece of furniture and I can see from the way the desk is set up that he must spend many hours there, poring over the analysis of results of his experiments. 

The intimidating effect of the chair fades as I take in his form. Long legs are met by a slightly curved waist, broadening to a solid chest and straight, muscular shoulders. His arms appear to have been honed to such an extent that while not thick, they clearly contain not one ounce of redundant flesh. I can see the outline of his biceps as he extends a hand and walks towards me, his strength visible as the muscles flex beneath the black fabric of his shirt. His boots make a soft sound against the hardwood floor as he moves, stalking over to me. My gaze shifts again, to his face, and I am struck by the clarity and depth of his eyes as they soften around the edges, causing tiny lines to form as he smiles. He is smiling at me.

Confused, I break eye contact with him and look at the floor as he approaches. I swallow my nerves and hold out my hand. He takes it, enveloping it with long, elegant fingers and a cool palm, and he raises an eyebrow as he feels how clammy my skin is. I am suddenly embarrassed. Raising my head again, I look into his eyes as his smile broadens and I notice that his mouth is ever so slightly crooked when he does so and that the corners of his plump lips turn down.

“Miss Turner,” he drawls, cocking his head to one side and tilting his forehead down towards me. 

“Hello, Sir,” I reply, pleased with the even tone of my voice.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” Khan continues, and as he lets go of my hand, he smiles warmly at me again.

“Well, I was wondering if you could tell me why you asked to see me? I am quite busy.” I wonder if I should have added the final statement, but it doesn’t appear to have registered at all. In fact, he looks pleased.

“Oh, we have plenty of time to talk things through. Now, can I offer you something to drink?” He gestures towards an expensive but sterile-looking kitchen area.

I blink at him and nod, a smile forming on my own lips, caught between nerves and genuine pleasure, misplaced or otherwise. “Please.”

“I have wine, would you care for a glass?” he asks.

“Lovely, thank you.”

I follow him and he moves gracefully around the island to where a bottle of expensive red wine stands on a granite worktop next to two huge wine glasses. It is already uncorked and he pours an inch into each glass. There is nothing else out on the surfaces, except the recently used corkscrew.

“Sit,” he says as he hands me one.

I perch on a leather stool and take a sip. The thought briefly occurs to me that he could have slipped something in it to drug me; it is certainly something he has done before and would explain his warm temperament this evening. But I watch as he takes a sip himself, surveying me over the top of his glass. He swallows his own without flinching, and I decide the wine has more than likely not been tampered with.

We sit for a couple of minutes in silence, before I clear my throat and ask again why I am here.

“Miss Turner, I realise this is going to sound clichéd, but I really cannot give you much in the way of detail. Suffice to say that I am working on a ground-breaking piece of research, which I need… help… with.” His face contorts as he says the word 'help', as it clearly pains him to be dependent on someone else, having to ask is not something he is used to.

“I may be able to tell you more if I can gain your consent. However, the nature of the tests I may have to conduct will be… uncomfortable… for you.” He looks down at his glass as he speaks, and I think I can see a hint of colour rising in his usually pale skin, and a hint of perspiration forming on his upper lip. His words swim in my head as I am distracted by his mouth, the cupid’s bow and round bottom lip together forming a heart-shape. 

I quickly gather my thoughts and realise, as his words sink in, that I have the upper hand. It appears that Khan is asking me for a favour, for my help, and that he is attempting to use charm to achieve his goal. The unknown elements of what he wants and why he wants it are flashing warning lights in my head and I know I should turn him down, make my excuses and leave.

“I understand, Miss Turner,” Khan says and looks at the door I entered through. “If you would like to leave, you are free to. However, I believe there are great things we can achieve if we work together, for each other.”

I follow his eyes as they look at the door, and then back to me. He sets his glass down on the counter and takes a step towards me, so he is standing close, but not too close. My chest rises and falls a little faster as I look up at him and I feel a faint displacement of the air as he breathes. He reaches up and as he lifts the glass out of my hand to place it on the granite, his eyes flicker to meet mine and he holds my gaze. It is the single most erotic experience I have encountered; his deep black pupils widening against the bright blue of his irises, and I feel oddly powerful to have this beautiful creature potentially in my debt. Unconsciously, my lips part and he smiles again, narrowing his eyes but continuing to hold my gaze.

“What do you mean ‘uncomfortable’?” I ask him, trying to remember that I was about to leave.

“I will need to know you intimately, Miss Turner. I will need DNA samples from you, as well as other samples and information, taken during the process of lovemaking. You have been identified as a rare carrier of a genetic disturbance that, I believe, can assist with certain drug development, if I can accurately isolate it, at the right time, during the act of intercourse.”

I cannot help but laugh out loud. “So, you have asked me here to try and fuck me?” I blurt out.

“Oh, Miss Turner. If I wanted to fuck you I would have done that already.” He says without laughing.

He turns and walks towards the opening to the bedroom area, stopping as he reaches the doorway, and saying with a smirk: “It may require some practice before I, we, get it just right.” 

I gulp down the remainder of the glass of wine and stand, steadying myself against the stool with my hand. I should leave, and yet, I am compelled to at least see what he has planned. I walk over the front door of the apartment and place my hand on the cool metal handle, gripping it gently and turning it. The heavy door swings open and, satisfied that I am free to leave, I close it again and stare at it for a few seconds.

***  
I walk into the bedroom and see a large bed, covered with slate grey sheets. The room is sparse, sterile like the kitchen, but in contrast to the living area there are no indications of scientific, or other, research.

Khan moves into my line of sight and stands in front of me, again surveying me with those eyes, which have darkened considerably since we spoke in the kitchen. This time he moves closer and invades my personal space, although I wonder if that is possible when standing in front of someone in their own bedroom, after they have asked you to sleep with them. 

“Khan, I, I don’t know if this is what I should be doing. I mean, this does sound ridiculous, and I think I should probably go.”

“Then leave.” He says, leaning down towards me and placing his lips against mine softly. They are warm and taste of wine, and I inhale as he sucks gently on my bottom lip before pulling away.

“I will.” I say, but before I do anything else, I find myself leaning up towards him to reach his mouth again, before it is too far away from me. He catches me and kisses back, just as softly, but this time his hand falls onto my waist and moves down, then pressing firmly onto my hip bone. His kiss is like feeling the first few drops of summer rain; warm yet cooling, hinting at dampness, calmness that could easily and quickly turn violent.

I am lost in the kiss and find my hands reaching up to his arms, to touch the hard muscle that is constrained by fabric, and when I do I am not disappointed. Both of his hands wrap around my body and he cannot help himself, it seems, when he grabs at my bottom, pulling me in to the kiss so that our bodies are flush together. I move my hands down his arms and onto his waist, holding my hands there and realising that I am incredibly, unbelievably, turned on.


	2. Chapter 2

Khan’s hands scale my back and he slowly unzips my dress, allowing it to sit on my shoulders as his fingers move into my hair. For a man with superhuman strength he has a wonderfully gentle touch and the feeling of those hands on my scalp surprises me by sending a shot of desire straight to between my legs. I am doing this, I decide, unwisely or not. My breath hitches as he continues to kiss me, slowly, steadily.

I can feel his cock as it begins to harden against my body, feeling each twitch through his trousers as his arousal courses through his body as does mine. His hands hold the back of my head, fingers spread wide, tangled in my hair, lifting it up. I push back at him, letting him know that while he may be used to being in control, I will not be totally at his surrender as he may like me to be. This seems to spur him on and his tongue enters my mouth to lap at me like he is tasting to remember. He runs his tongue along my teeth and he sucks my top lip, letting his teeth graze me gently, and I moan against his mouth.

As Khan pushes me gently backwards, I feel the cool wall behind me. The opening at the back of my dress falls wider and the material slides slowly off my shoulders, my dress pooling at my feet. I step out of it and kick it away, as Khan directs his attention away from my mouth and onto my neck. My mouth feels at a loss now that his lips are skimming the sensitive skin below my ear, but I forget my disappointment when I feel his hands leave my hair and press against the lace of my bra. His large palms flatten against them, and he curls his fingers in to my flesh as my nipples harden beneath him. I begin to move a hand around, suddenly desperate to feel his growing erection in my hand, but he stops me, removing his left hand from my breast and taking a firm hold of my wrist. Slowly, he lifts it up in the air and back towards the wall, and I let him hold it there while he does the same to the other. 

Both hands are now above my head, against the wall, and he entwines his fingers around them so that I am held in place. His mouth skims down to my collar bone and back up to my armpit and he bites me. I cry out as the change in nature surprises me but it only makes me determined to find out what he will do to me next.

His mouth finds mine, and it is almost an apology for biting me. Again, he invades me with his tongue and I find myself relaxing my entire body in preparation. His tongue outlines my lips and flicks inside but it is his lips that deliver the most erotic of sucks and nips. Before I find the strength to hold it in, I let out a breathy moan, and he responds to the noise I make by smoothing his hands down the curve of my waist and hips, and around to where my thighs meet my ass, pulling me towards him again. I let my arms droop and they fall to my sides as he releases me from his kiss and from his touch.

“Please, lie on the bed,” he says, and I am unable to avert my eyes from the bulge in his trousers which is now large and inviting. 

I do as he asks, climbing on to the middle of the bed and laying back, my arms by my sides. My underwear is now sodden and I can feel the dampness as I manoeuvre myself to a comfortable position. He follows, stopping by the bedside table and opening the drawer. I start to sit up to look but my view is blocked as he looms in front of me again, climbing up onto the bed and straddling my legs by my knees. In his hands he holds a small bottle of oil and he squirts a tiny pool of it into his hands and rubs them together. As his palms and fingers move against one another he glances up to me, his jet black hair beginning to fall free over his forehead, and another smile creases his face.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, only to feel his warm, oiled palms placed flat on my upper thighs, making my skin tingle instantly. The pressure he applies is steady; enough to cause an indentation on my skin, but slight enough that it feels like his skin is made of silk fabric. He envelopes my senses, moving with a measured pace as he works up the very tops of my legs, past the fabric of my panties which sit across my hips and up the sides of my tummy. Bringing them in, his hands meet together under my breasts and I long for him to touch them again, through my underwear or not.

Khan takes his time, sensually massaging my skin, as if there is a direct connection linking every inch of my body with my throbbing clit. He runs his skilled fingers down my arm, lingering on my wrist and when he reaches the tips of my fingers he takes my ring and middle finger and, licking his lips, places them against his wet mouth. He sucks briefly on the ends of my two fingers. 

As he lets my hand fall roughly from his mouth, I lose some of the self-control I have been attempting to hold in and swing it across to tug at my panties. I struggle, though, because of the way he has me pinned to the bed and instead, I start to force my hand inside my underwear, I am so desperate for some friction against my throbbing core.

He looks down at my hand, grins at me, and just as I reach my destination, he covers the wrist and pulls it away. I yowl, disappointed, and I pant, but I will not beg him, not yet.

Holding the offending arm down on the bed, by my side, he lets his other hand trail across my chest, deliberately avoiding the area still covered by my bra. He leans down to me and pecks tiny kisses at my collar bone, then moves his head down further to nuzzle at the space between my breasts, burying his nose and nudging at the fabric. 

Khan’s resolve to keep administering this delectable torture for as long as is augmented-humanly possible seems to waver when he lets out a grunt, letting go of the wrist he is still clutching, and tugs at the cups of my bra. He scoops my breasts one at a time, freeing my nipples, which are dark and standing proudly away from body. Swallowing, he leans so close to my left breast that I feel his breath against my oversensitive peak. He runs an oiled hand over it, barely touching the skin, letting his palm drag across the very tip, which responds by tightening even more. His thumb runs back across my nipple again, and his head is so close to my face and body now that I can smell his musky scent. I lift my head off the pillow to try to reach his neck, to breathe in more of it. Disturbed from his fascination with my breasts, he covers my mouth with his and delivers kiss after punishing kiss. 

Less gentle now, he lets his lips fill me with a hint more urgency, and he bites again, this time at my bottom lip, making my arms fly up to grab at his shoulders. I enjoy the feeling of his broad shoulders so close to me, and I run my hands across them a few times. His mouth again falls to my neck and delivers deliberately smooth kisses there as I bring my hands up to the back of his neck, letting my fingertips feel the soft hairline and I notice the dampness of the sweat beginning to form here. The thought of my own body having such an effect on this man drives me wild and I gasp again, shuddering with anticipation and pure lust.

His hands snake around to my back and he at last unclasps my bra and frees me of it completely, letting it fall to the floor. The room is silent except for my own breathing, although I realise there is an audibility to his movements now and he seems to be less in control than he has been so far. His hard penis makes contact with my body through his trousers from time to time as he continues his movements on me, and every time it does, I feel a tensing of his muscles.

Suddenly he lets out a deep growl and shakes his head violently. The ache deep inside me spikes again as I am momentarily unsure whether to be afraid, and he grabs both breasts in his hands, squeezing and rolling my nipples between his fingertips. I feel as though I might orgasm right there, the lubrication of the oil allowing for the perfect level of friction between our skin. Finally, Khan devours a nipple with his mouth, letting his tongue roll languidly across the tip, circling and flicking at it. 

He allows himself to shift, placing one knee in between my legs, and I eagerly comply by widening them. The scent of my arousal hits me and he looks up to grin at me as his other leg moves too, forcing me wide open. Still he does not attempt to remove my underwear, instead lowering himself over me, his hardness pressing into me, teasing with its proximity to where I want him, but remaining cruelly constrained by his clothing. 

His weight falls onto my hips, pushing me into the mattress, and as he licks a stripe up the centre of my torso, from my belly button to my chin, he grinds tiny dry thrusts at me, each one accompanied by a small grunt of pleasure, or indeed frustration. I lift my knees up towards my head in an attempt to make his thrusts meet my throbbing clit and I jam my hands into his thick black hair, making it stick out at the back. I am on the verge of begging him to fuck me, when his hips still, and he pushes himself back, away from me, and climbs off the bed.

He leans over to the drawer and picks up something; I turn my head to see again but he has palmed it before I can catch a glimpse.


	3. Chapter 3

Khan's elegant form appears over my body as I lie, as he left me, spread across the bed. My entire body is tingling with the incredible arousal he has initiated in me and the ache between my legs is becoming almost painful. I am juxtaposed between a physical need to orgasm and an emotional addiction to the delaying of my release. 

Khan's movements are deliberate; he moves with such grace that I am spellbound by him, even though I know he could, and would, snap my neck in an instant if he thought I was a threat. He removes his boots and black shirt and I catch my breath at the sight of his broad, muscular chest, alabaster skin with whispers of fair hair and freckles. The definition of his shoulders becomes my focus as he moves towards me and extends his arms, grasping my hands in his, which are still lightly oiled. 

Pulling me up, he shifts back to allow me to pull my legs up and underneath, so that we are now both kneeling on the bed, facing each other. I am in just my panties and he is still hard underneath his taut trousers. 

Khan's fingers hook into the sides of my underwear and he pulls them down quickly. I lean a hand on his thick shoulder as I lift each leg at a time to allow him to slide the wet fabric over me and he sets them down next to him. He runs a hand through his jet black locks, causing more of them to spring free and hang down, almost, but not quite, covering his beautiful eyes.

Leaning in to me, his lips brush mine, accompanied by a quick couple of swipes across my nipples, as if he wants to make sure I am still as aroused as I possibly can be. I take this chance to reach forward and at last I feel the solid protrusion of his cock as it strains against the fabric. It pulses under my touch and I smile. Khan responds with a long, deep groan and I feel a further surge of wetness between my legs. Instinctively, I move my knees apart and hope that he will touch me; the very sight of his fingers making me feel dizzy with need.

Gently but firmly, he turns me by my shoulders as I shuffle my legs round on the bed and I am facing away from him, his hands running down my arms. It is now that I notice the large rectangular mirror in front of me, above the headboard, and I take in the sight of me kneeling, naked, legs apart. Khan's larger form is behind me, his hair becoming sexily dishevelled. His shoulders are wider than mine by a good five or six inches and he is taller than me by a similar amount. 

I watch his hands as they move around to palm my breasts, and it makes me shudder and squirm into his touch. I lean my head back to rest against his strong body. He looks down at me as he kisses my neck, moving from one side, around the top of my back, to the other and finishing with a nip to my earlobe. His nimble fingers roll my nipples and I scream out his name. 

"You will be screaming my name over and over for me while I fuck you, Miss Turner," he growls into the ear he had just bitten. 

"Ah, I - you - are supposed to make love to me!" I manage to pant as his hands spread over my sides and journey south to my thighs. 

"Indeed, I plan on doing both," he whispers.

Finally, and just as I am prepared to continue our conversation with a series of desperate requests for him to finger me, lick me, or fuck me, I feel a hand crawl it's way down to my slick opening. My legs begin to shake as two fingers find their way into me and begin to circle my clit with a skilled and subtle approach. The hand that remains on my breast holds me and his erection presses into my bare ass. I swear I can feel heat emanating from it through his clothes. 

The light friction against my clit and the thought of his penis against me cloud my vision as I stare dumbfounded into the mirror and all too soon I am coming, intensely and quickly, as the effects of Khan's massage and the stimulation combine in my head and on my body. I shake as he holds me against him and he growls in approval while I whimper, unable to tear my eyes away from his reflection and my own. 

His fingers, wet with my own fluid, rise to rub at my nipples again, and he coats each one with my juice as he stares at me through the mirror. I wonder how he manages to connect so deeply with me through a piece of silver and glass.

Khan's arms leaves my body and he swipes behind him, grabbing a silk scarf he must have removed from the drawer next to the bed, and he places it gently in front of my eyes. Tying it tightly, he steals from me my vision of us, my face flushed from the speed and intensity of my orgasm, his beginning to colour as he controls and suppresses his deeply primal needs. 

His hands leave my body but he remains pressed tightly to my back. I close my eyes behind the blindfold and arch my back slightly when I feel something cold and hard touch my nipple, circling it, and I feel his arm brush against my skin as he holds it. It is a cool, hard, metallic smooth against my hot, moist skin, and he runs it slowly down my tummy, sliding over the beads of perspiration that have formed under my breasts. 

His free arm wraps across my shoulders and he pulls me so tightly in to him that I cannot help but wriggle teasingly against his erection. The smooth coolness moves further down and as I throw my hips forward he meets my centre with the object in his hand. 

As Khan flicks the switch, the rounded end of the metal implement begins to vibrate against me. I am still coming down from my orgasm, and the intensity of the feeling against my swollen clit is almost too much to bear. His free arm moves down, back to my punished nipple and he pinches lightly, pulling and tugging at it, increasing the feeling mounting inside me again. 

His lips find my neck once more and the nips and sucks continue as his hand is increasingly violent against my breast and he rubs his hard cock up and down against my backside.

I am gasping for breath when I begin to come again, my legs tremble and I grasp hold of his strong muscular thighs behind me in an attempt to steady myself against the onslaught. Khan rumbles into my ear, urging me on, telling me he will continue to make me climax until I cannot take any more and that he will - eventually - make love to me.

He grasps me while I come so hard, until I cannot breathe, and I am writhing against him and he is practically holding me up with his one arm. 

Khan lets me down onto the bed and I collapse onto my side, still shaking and trying to catch my breath. I lie as still as I can while he moves off the bed. His hands untie the blindfold gently and as my eyes become re-accustomed to the soft lighting, his shirtless form lingers in front of me, a satisfied smile on his lips. 

"Take a moment, Miss Turner," he whispers. "You will need to regain your strength."


	4. Chapter 4

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, burying my nose into the soft pillow and feeling myself drifting in and out of consciousness as I fight against the desire to sleep. The perspiration on my naked back begins to cool my skin and I notice faint shivers beginning to rack my torso as I rapidly lose the heat provided by my orgasm and Khan's warm body, which is no longer pressed against me. I realise I miss it.

Khan emerges from the room next door and covers my form with a soft blanket, handing me my glass of wine, discarded before I lost myself in his arms and at the mercy of his scent, his strength and his vulnerability, beginning to make itself known to me. We had shared intimate moments and I could see that he did have a soul; this machine of a man who had been broken by the love of his crew, who now sought so hard to hide emotion from others.

I take the glass and sit up, pulling the blanket up around me so that it is tucked under my arms, covering my modesty. It feels strange and I suddenly can't place my relationship with this man, this man who has stripped me back and wracked my body with pleasure in a way I have never experienced before.

I sip from the glass and wonder again if he has drugged me, but the hormones swimming in my head, along with the alcohol, convince me again that there would be little reason for him to do this. If he wanted to kill or otherwise harm me he would have done it already. It's possible he has slipped me something to make me more relaxed, but in my heady state I can't make myself care. It feels too good. 

He moves around the bed, his eyes dropping to the floor as he pads in bare feet, seemingly relaxing himself, although I notice that there is still evidence of his arousal under his trousers. The dark material is still straining tightly against his flesh underneath and my thoughts wander to how he has managed to keep from relieving himself for so long. It feels like hours since we began, although I have no idea how long I have been here, and I do not care. 

Khan sits on the bed and swings his legs up, leaning back so that we are side by side up against the soft pillows and headboard. The mirror behind us throws jagged reflections from the lights onto the ceiling and opposite wall, yellows and pinks shimmering together. Emboldened by a shift in our dynamic, I put down the wine glass which I have now drained, and turn onto my side to face him. He turns to look at me, blue eyes hooded and guarding something. Each time I look into them I notice another shred of his facade drop away and a further opening of vulnerability appear. I place a hand on his chest, tiny fine hairs prickling against me, warm skin unyielding to pressure, a momentary tension in his pectoral muscles releasing as I stare at him.

I drag my hand slowly across and up to his opposite shoulder, extending my arm fully to reach, skimming a tiny pink nipple as I do, and I watch a faint reaction in his eyes as I make that fleeting contact. I let my the tips of my fingers linger over his taught shoulder before I run it back down and follow the line of hairs as they decend to his waistband. Glancing down to follow the path of my hand I can see his cock enlarging further, the bulge growing bigger as I smile back at Khan. He looks at me, confusion showing through his glacier eyes. My thoughts wander and I think that if I ever see him again after this night, I will have to encourage him to develop his sense of humour. 

I lick my lips and decide to go for it. I throw off the blanket, letting it slide off my body, onto the bed and slip silently on the floor. Sitting up on my knees, I place both my hands on his stomach and bend to kiss him there, swirling my tongue on his skin, taking in his musky scent, revelling in the now-pleasing notion that he is staring at me as I work on him. I run my hands back up as I continue to work with my tongue, rolling his nipple between my fingers lightly, eliciting a sharp moan from the great man. I pause to flash my eyes up to his face and grin back at his expression, a mix of pleasure and annoyance.

Straddling him now, I crawl slowly towards him, lifting my head but allowing my breasts to drag across his chest as I reach his face and take his chin in one hand. His face feels soft, but a hint of stubble forming across his jaw and top lip only serve to make him more attractive in this subtle lighting. 

His strong hands move to grip my bare arse, preventing me from moving anywhere until I have planted another kiss, this time to his lips, and I notice that now they are hot and demanding. He is fighting against himself, fighting the urge to flip me over and take control once again. I suck on his bottom lip.

He is struggling now, all his self control of the previous minutes or hours starts to fade away and he thrusts his hips up towards me, pushing my bottom down so that he can grind against me. I feel the straining material against me and my own arousal aches in my belly, ready to see how many more ways he can elicit pleasure from me. Or maybe this time I can wait. It is time to push Khan to his limit.

Shimmying down, I make sure I increase the friction against his bulging pelvis, dragging myself over his erection as much as possible before I lean down again to lick at the inch of skin above his trousers. My hands finally find the button of his jeans and I take agonising pleasure in twisting it open, pulling the material tightly as I do, just to hear a gasp escape his wet lips. I slide the zipper down and part the fabric, distracted slightly by the sight of pink skin and coarse dark hair as I take my hands away completely and sit up to look directly at him. He thrusts up again, making me lurch forward towards him as he stares through his eyebrows at me.

After I have made him wait an acceptable length of time, I slide a hand into his trousers and watch his eyes widen. I am kneeling on the bed and catch sight of myself in the great mirror behind him, my hair hanging loosely, breasts round and full. I am pleased he is staring at me. As my fingers find his cock, hard and begging to be let free, I carefully slide his trousers down and away, letting them crumple around his thighs. It cannot be comfortable, but he doesn't seem to notice, or care. 

I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock and lean down to rub it against my chest, small drops of wetness emerging from it, leaving trails on my already damp skin. He moans again at the contact and I see him steeling himself, regaining control to avoid this ending all too soon. I move my hand, slowly and rhythmically, in time with the cues his body is giving me, watching his eyes as they flicker from my hand to my face and back again.  
Bending, I flick my tongue at the tip of his cock, swirling around to provide a contrast to my hand which is now pumping him steadily. I graze a finger lightly at the top of his thigh and feel the reaction in his penis as it twitches under my grasp. 

When I look up at him again, Khan throws his eyes to the ceiling and releases a deep growl as his hand comes to my face and instead of pushing my head down further onto him, he lifts me, indicating for me to stop. I move away, releasing him, his cock stretched and taut against his own skin as beads of precome form at the tip. He sits up, leaning towards me, pushing his trousers down and away from him, and scoops me up. He lifts me towards him so that I am in his lap, his cock looming between us, desperate for attention, but he kisses me again, softly.

Asserting my control again, I gently push him back onto the bed and take his cock in my hand. I guide it slowly into me, lifting my hips and sliding gently down so I can accommodate him without discomfort. I take a deep breath as he fills me, stretching me, and I begin to move slowly at first. His hands fly to my breasts and he grabs at me almost clumsily, long fingers fumbling at my nipples, serving to stoke the fire building deep within me again as I grind my pelvis against his, delighting in the friction between our bodies.

He sits again, pulling me close in to him and I understand what he was doing a moment ago. As his arms hold me so close to him and his hips buck into me with superhuman strength, I jam my hands into his thick black hair. Sweat is running from his head, down the nape of his long neck, as I fist my fingers against his scalp. As my orgasm approaches, I throw back my head and scream up at the ceiling, Khan's lips on my neck, nipping me, biting me as I shake with pleasure and take two handfuls of his hair and pull hard.

The force with which I pull his hair makes Khan roar loudly, the vibrations from the noise increasing the length of my orgasm as wave after wave washes over me and he pushes two, then three huge thrusts into me as his own orgasm hits and his pleasure is finally released. Clinging to each other, we continue to move, aftershocks of our crescendo as we pant into each other's faces. Khan's blue eyes shine brighter than ever, and sweat drips from both our foreheads as we grip each other's shoulders and arms. I don't want to let him go.

Eventually, though, he releases me and I move away, standing from the bed on shaky legs and pulling the blanket from the floor to cover me once again.

"No." He says simply, and stands next me, bending to kiss me.


End file.
